#charles undressing on the field?

[sainzcaleruega]

overstimulated from all the content we got today i will need a moment to recover

[rubyklaasje]

❁(╥﹏╥) CRAWL (╥﹏╥)❁: A playlist for daydreaming about Crowley and all his lil situations Track list (ok to shuffle): I Palindrome I - They Might Be Giants Someday mother will die and I'll get the money / Mom leans down and says, "My sentiments exactly, / You son of a bitch" Everyone - Mitski And I opened my arms wide to the dark / I said take it all, whatever you want / I didn't know that I was young / I didn't know what it would take I Know - Fiona Apple So be it, I'm your crowbar / If that's what I am so far / Until you get out of this mess Andrew in Drag - The Magnetic Fields The moment he walked on the stage my tail began to wag / Wag like a little weiner dog for Andrew in drag The Party's Crashing Us - Of Montreal Still, I only feel alive when the VU is flashing / Alarms going off in my head june 14th - Lauren Auder And oh, if you keep me near / I'll accept it's a joke / 'Cause you could be the one keeping me here, love Posing In Bondage - Japanese Breakfast Closeness / Proximity / I needed / Bondage I Just Want To Talk To You - Charles Brown, Sleepy Creek I know it's crazy to be calling this time of night / I just want to hear your voice / Oh, anything you say would make me feel alright God Sent Me Here To Rock You - Naomi Elizabeth God sent me here to rock you / He gave me a job to do / He told me "Girl, you have to show them / The way I do things here in Heaven" Xanny Bar - Porches You said "I'm Edith and I've always been a mess" / Well nice to meet you maybe we'll undress / But we could just lie down / We both could use the rest Butch In The Streets - Tribe 8 She's a butch in the streets, femme in the sheets / She's just a girl when she goes home Sand Angel - Bachelor Waking up from a dream / Where you hold me kiss me / And I can't fall back asleep Endless Love - Thao & The Get Down Stay Down I don't want it / I don't want it / Carve it on out of me The Deal - Mitski I want someone to take this soul / I can't bear to keep it / I'd give it just to give / And all I will take are the consequences / Will somebody take this soul? Interstate Vision - Lomelda Still I sit with you in parking lots / Acting like I'm not falling for it I Miss That - Porches I bury my face in the neck of my friend / I got it in my head just thinking / I like that, I like that, I like that

cover art by me, it is a wip for a lil animatic thing i'm making for sightofsea's affection and other cravings which you def need to go read if you havent already!

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Friday 2 June 1837

8 ½

12 5

small rainy very good for the country morning and F42 ½° at 9 am had Charles Howarth about wood for Hilltop repairs – shed etc and roof of the wash and brew house at home – then had Booth about the above and Brookes’ cottage and then had Shaw the plasterer and paid him by check no.123 £50 in a/c of the plastering at Northgate said I was glad he had got the job – I had found fault with him at the Lodge – and been the best friend he had – hoped he would gibe and get us a good blue vote or two – yes! that he would – breakfast about 10 ½ in ½ hour – then sometime talking to Blythe – thought he best go over to Hilltop and see what sort of workman Riley is and if he can do well enough see about employing him for the tower staircase – then buys over 1 thing or other till now 12 – then wrote memoranda of small books to be ordered – then about 12 ½ letter from Mr. Fenton by his servant John Burton – good character – hired the young man (aetatis 16) at £16 per annum including washing (i.e. he to pay for his own washing out of the £16 per annum) 1 dress 1 undress and 1 [?] dress and 1 hat per annum – John had £10 a year with Mr. Fenton and was washed for in the house – had lived with him 6 months – leave him because a small boy will be enough for the work – John to turn the washing machine – to take charge of the ponies or work under the gardener in my absence as I may thing best – to wear powder when out of livery – I to find the powder or allow a gin a year then sat looking over Fortunes’ Epitome of the stocks till 1 ½ and wrote the last 18 lines –

SH:7/ML/E/20/0071

from about 1 ¾ to 3 40 wrote rough drafts fluently and to my mind of letter to Lady Stuart and note to Lady Canning and letter (long note) to Lady Harriet – expecting A- left my study at 3 ¾ and went out – A- immediately came before I had got out of the farmyard on her pony at Cliff hill for her at 3 – sat with her till went out for ½ hour at 5 ¾ to Robert Mann and co. and the gardener sodding south bank of Wheat field Lodge road finished this afternoon up to the Laundry court road to the house – dinner at 6 40 – coffee (made on sitting down to dinner) downstairs before leaving the dining table – sat talking – note from the philosophical society – a paper will be read next Monday entitled ‘Halifax during the 17th century’ Note also from Mr. Parker to say he had good reason to believe Mr. Carr had not yet ‘entered into any new agreement with Mr. Rayner’ for the White Swann Inn, but has certainly taken Mr. Saltmarshes premises in George Street – I almost think there is an end of his opposition to the Northgate hotel – read A- my letter to Vere – A- would like to see the schools at Berlin now after reading Mr. George Combes’ work on education – walked with her as far as Mytholm (she rode the rest of the way George following us with the ponies) left her there at 8 55 and returned by Lower brea wood and the walk – then to the Lodge and sauntering about till came in at 10 10 – then looking about and musing about the ceiling over the hall stairs and wrote the last 13 lines till 10 ¾ - small rainy morning till near noon and afterwards fine afternoon and evening and F43° now at 10 ¾ pm

[conradscrime]

Bobby Dunbar

June 14, 2021

Robert Clarance Dunbar, known as Bobby Dunbar was born to Lessie and Percy Dunbar on May 23, 1908 in Louisiana. Bobby also had a younger brother named Alonzo. In August 1912 the family took a fishing trip to Swayze Lake in St. Landry Parish, Louisiana. On August 23, 1912, 4 year old Bobby disappeared. 

The search for Bobby lasted 8 months before authorities located a man named William Cantwell Walters, a handyman who specialized in tuning and repairing pianos and organs. William had been seen travelling around Mississippi with a boy who matched the description of Bobby Dunbar. William claimed this child was named Charles Bruce Anderson, known to many as Bruce, who was the son of a woman who worked for William’s family. 

William said the mother of Bruce was named Julia Anderson and she had given William custody willingly. Julia later confirmed this. Despite this, William Walters was arrested and the Dunbars travelled to Mississippi to identify this boy. 

There’s many different accounts of what took place when Lessie Dunbar and this boy met for the first time. One account claimed that the boy yelled “Mother” when he first saw Lessie and then the two embraced. Another account claims that the young boy began to cry while Lessie was “unsure” of whether he was her son. 

Another newspaper account claimed that both of the Dunbars stated that they had doubts as to whether this boy was Bobby Dunbar or not. There are other contradictions saying that the boy immediately recognized Alonzo Dunbar, called him by name and kissed him. Another account states the boy did not recognize Alonzo.

The day after meeting or “reuniting” with this boy, Lessie confirmed he was in fact her son, Bobby, after she bathed him and identified moles and scars he had. Lessie was then certain that this boy was Bobby Dunbar. The young boy returned to Louisiana with the Dunbars. 

Shortly after Bobby was “found” Julia Anderson travelled from North Carolina to support William Walters’ story that the young boy was in fact her son, Bruce. Julia was unmarried and was working as a field hand for the Walters’ family. She allowed William Walters to take her son for what she claimed was a “two-day trip” to visit one of William’s relatives. Julia claimed she had only consented for William to take Bruce for this two-day trip and no longer. 

Julia Anderson was presented with 5 different boys who were around the same age as her son Bruce, including the boy that went home with the Dunbars. When “Bobby” was presented he showed no indication that he recognized Julia. Julia asked if this was the boy who was recovered, but was not given an answer and she claimed to be unsure if the boy was her son Bruce. 

Julia saw the boy again the next day and she was allowed to undress him when she became more certain that he was Bruce. At this point though word had already gotten around that she had “failed” to positively identify her son on the first attempt. The newspapers were also questioning her moral character because she had 3 children, 2 of these 3 had already been deceased, out of wedlock which was frowned upon at the time. Most people dismissed Julia’s claims. 

Julia had no choice but to return to North Carolina because she didn’t have the money to ensure a long court battle. Julia would later return to Louisiana for William Walter’s kidnapping trial to say he was innocent and push for the court to determine the boy was indeed Bruce. 

At trial, Julia met some of the residents of the town of Poplarville, Mississippi, who knew William was innocent because William and this boy had spent quite some time in the area and came to know many of the locals there. A number of them claimed to have seen William with the boy prior to Bobby Dunbar’s disappearance. Despite all the testimony, the court ruled that the boy was in fact Bobby Dunbar and that William would be charged with kidnapping. 

Bobby Dunbar was to live out the rest of his life under this identity. 

After the trial, the people of Poplarville welcomed Julia into their community and she began her new life there. She married and eventually had 7 children. She became a Christian, helping to find a church and worked as a nurse and midwife. Her children often said Julia would speak of her lost son and that they always claimed he had been stolen by the Dunbars. 

In 2008 one of Julia’s sons, Hollis, came forward and said that he had actually met Bobby Dunbar/Bruce Anderson in 1944 at his work where the two talked. Julia’s daughter, Jules, recounted how she had an experience where a man who she believed to be Bobby Dunbar came to the service station where she worked and talked to her for a while. Bobby Dunbar’s son, Gerald, had a similar story, claiming his father had been passing through Poplarville when Bobby said, “Those are the people they came to pick me up from.” 

William Walters served two years of his prison sentence for kidnapping and his attorney appealed the conviction. He was granted a new trial. Due to the excessive costs of the first trial, the prosecutors declined to re-try William and he was released. He died on April 7, 1945 and was burned in Colorado beside his wife. William always maintained his innocence of kidnapping Bobby Dunbar.

Bobby Dunbar married and had 4 children of his own. He died on March 8, 1966 and was buried in Opelousas, Louisiana. His wife died in 1994.

Years after Bobby died, one of his granddaughters, Margaret Dunbar Cutright, started her own investigation, looking through newspapers, evidence presented at the trial, and interviewing Julia Anderson’s children. Margaret began the investigation to prove her grandfather really was a Dunbar, but after her examining the evidence, she stated she had doubts. 

In 2004 Bob Dunbar, Jr did some DNA testing to resolve this issue once and for all. The results came back and showed that Bob Dunbar Jr. was not related by blood to his supposed cousin, who was Alonzo Dunbar’s son. 

Margaret Dunbar Cutright said she believed that the real Bobby Dunbar had fallen into the Swayze Lake during the fishing trip and was eaten by an alligator. She also said that the results of the DNA test were good for Julia Anderson’s family and William Walters’ family. 

Margaret said that the results of this DNA test and her own investigation led to a lot of discord between her family because most of the children and grandchildren considered themselves to be Dunbars and were resentful towards Margaret for looking into the matter. 

Due to these results the true identity of Bobby Dunbar remains unknown. 

[taleoftalespod]

Tale of Tales | episode: 1.07 “Risen (Part 1)”

Once there was a god who rose from the dead…

In this (year late) episode of Tale of Tales, we'll explore the complexities of imperialism, the joys (and sorrows) of sex, and why you literally cannot win once you've gotten yourself mixed up in goddesses' interpersonal disputes.

https://www.buzzsprout.com/800948/8267888-1-07-risen-part-1.mp3?blob_id=37471845&download=true

Tale on this episode:

Publius Ovidius Naso, “Venus and Adonis”, The Metamorphoses, ed. Charles Martin (0:18:47-0:43:58)

“Inanna and Dumuzid”, reconstructed from various hymns collected by Samuel Noah Kramer and Diane Wolkstein in Inanna, Queen of Heaven and Earth: Her Stories and Hymns From Sumer (0:51:22-1:29:54)

All Music Licensed under Creative Commons BY Attribution 4.0 License

http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

Track Listing:

“Afterlife” by Alexander Nakarada (0:00:12-0:03:09)

“Tranquil Fields - Eastern” by Alexander Nakarada (0:03:10-0:04:33; 0:54:22-0:56:26; 0:58:13-1:00:40)

“Wanderer” by Alexander Nakarada (0:18:47-0:20:25)

“Stay the Course” by Kevin MacLeod (0:24:32-0:31:17; 1:02:33-1:04:40)

“Ancient Rite” by Kevin MacLeod (0:31:17-0:36:28; 0:51:22-0:54:22)

“Tranquil Fields - Peaceful” by Alexander Nakarada (0:37:55-0:41:55; 1:33:32-1:34:36)

“Send For the Horses” by Kevin MacLeod (0:41:55-0:43:58)

“The Enemy” by Alexander Nakarada (1:04:38-1:07:28)

“Oppressive Gloom” by Kevin MacLeod (1:08:39-1:14:19)

“Reign Supreme” by Kevin MacLeod (1:14:50-1:15:53)

“Expeditionary” by Kevin MacLeod (1:15:51-1:18:57)

“Gathering Darkness” by Kevin MacLeod (1:20:29-1:25:06)

“Burnt Spirit” by Kevin MacLeod (1:24:55-1:26:45)

“Tempting Secrets” by Kevin MacLeod (1:26:24-1:29:54)

Episode Extra: The Afterlife of Mary Magdalene

There is another woman, closer to home for Christianity, who has been known for the love she had for a dead man. Though the number of women at the empty tomb varies depending on the gospel being read, the Christian Church has traditionally recognized the round number of the Three Marys: Mary the mother of Jesus, Mary Salome, and Mary Magdalene, also known as the Myrrh Bearers since they brought precious ointments with them to embalm Jesus’ body. Mary was a popular name at the time — in Hebrew, it’s Miriam, the name of the prophetess who helped Moses lead the Israelites out of Egypt during the Exodus. In a time of political dissatisfaction and nostalgia for an imagined past of religious and national freedom, many Jewish parents of the first century named their children with the expectation of an imminent reversal of fortunes. 

Mary Magdalene is an enigmatic figure from her very first appearance in text: her title “Magdalene” doesn’t translate very well into anything. The most common scholarly reconstruction is that it means she was from Magdala, a large fishing village in the Galilee, but even that isn’t very certain. Mark and Matthew only refer to her by name, without any other description beyond her attachment to Jesus’ following. Luke informs us that she had been rid of seven demons by Jesus, but also that (somewhat more importantly) she and a couple other women were his patrons — they funded his work. In spite of her mysterious past as a demoniac, then, her role in Jesus’ ministry reflected not simply womanly servitude but the power and prestige of a typical rich Roman woman helping pay a client’s bills — a position common enough in early Christianity to afford women quite a lot of say in the Church in the first few centuries CE.

Naturally, there was some tension about these powerful roles, and the second and third centuries saw increased squeamishness from Christian men about women’s outspokenness, and for one reason or another Mary Magdalene became, for both misogynist and proto-feminist sides of the debate, the prototypical woman disciple. The second century Gospel of Thomas ends with a scene in which Peter, prototypical of male discipleship, asks Jesus to tell Mary Magdalene to go away since “women don’t deserve to live”, but Jesus reassures him that she can stay because his guidance will make her (at least spiritually) male — a pro-Mary Magdalene take in which women are allowed to be prominent in the Church but must act like men to do so. Another somewhat-easier-to-digest text, named the Gospel of Mary by scholars, describes a discussion between the disciples after Jesus has gone back to heaven — Mary Magdalene tries you reassure the male disciples that Jesus promised her he’d be with them forever, and Peter responds that Jesus would never have spoken alone to a woman, inciting a furious argument between all the disciples about Mary’s place. Later legends told how Mary Magdalene sailed to Rome after Jesus’ resurrection and tried to convert Emperor Tiberius, bringing a white chicken egg as a humble gift; when Tiberius claimed a man could no more rise from the dead that her egg could change color, the egg in her hand turned blood red — a potential source for the modern Easter egg tradition.

Misogynistic arguments found support in Mary’s sordid demonic past and her subservience to Jesus and relative silence in the New Testament gospels themselves. The medieval pope Gregory XIV did the Magdalene a further disservice by proclaiming (with no evidence) that she was the same woman as the “woman of ill repute” in Luke 9 who cried on Jesus’ feet, instigating a number of inventive portrayals of Mary Magdalene as the terrible scandalous harlot whom Jesus converted  into a repentant, quiet saint. A sorry, penitent Mary Magdalene, usually tantalizingly undressed but still covered by her long hair, sometimes contemplating her own mortality via a skull in one hand, became a favorite subject of Christian artists, giving the Church a whore to complement Mother Mary.

The past century has seen attempts to revitalize and reclaim the image of the Magdalene. Some attempts have been less progressive than others — such as the rumor that, rather than a sex worker (gross), Mary Magdalene was Jesus’ wife (good), an allegation that inspired The Last Temptation of Christ and Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code. More recently, Pope Francis in 2012 declared Mary Magdalene “apostle to the apostles”, based on the fact that in the Gospel of John she is not only the only woman at the empty tomb, but also the first person to see Jesus alive again, and the one whom he himself entrusts with the news of his resurrection, essentially making her not only the very first apostle, but also the very first Christian. In her book The Resurrection of Mary Magdalene, feminist theologian Jane Schaberg notes, “Mary Magdalene is the madwoman in Christianity’s attic... hidden there because of an open and not fully appreciated secret, and its implications, at Christianity’s core: that the male disciples fled and the women did not.”

[bloody-oath]

Imagine the slashers high...

High as a kite.

Jason Voorhees:

⋆ Picks flowers and performs the iconic The Sound of Music™ twirling in a field because he just feels oh-so good and light-footed. ⋆ Gives his machete a nickname; Jason’s Only Friend, Jason Junior. ⋆ Has a staring contest with his mother’s decapitated head (and loses).

Michael Myers:

⋆ Believes the mask is his actual face and gets worried because how can he eat to stay alive if his mouth doesn’t open? ⋆ Wonders what shape he’s supposed to be since people nickname him The Shape. Rhombus, maybe? ⋆ Shiny knife is shiny. He is left amazed for the next couple of hours.

Freddy Krueger:

⋆ Wonders if a clone of him would give him nightmares if he could dream.  ⋆ Wishes he had hair because he could give himself a haircut with his bladed-glove. Feels like there’s talent going to waste now. ⋆ Wants his own cooking show called Baked Baking with Freddy.

Leatherface:

⋆ What the fuck is on his face? What the fuck is that lamp made out of? What the fuck is that rotten smell coming from the basement? Induced amnesia. ⋆ Accidentally buries Grandpa because he mistook him for being dead. ⋆ HE TYPES CLOWN INSTEAD OF FOOD. IT’S AN INTOXICATED MIRACLE!

Brahms Heelshire:

⋆ Keeps forgetting he moves the doll and freaks out when he sees it in different positions. ⋆ Gets upset because he had to ‘murder’ a doll to make his porcelain mask, and what if that doll’s family is waiting for it to come home but it never will because it’s dead? ⋆ Speaks with his childish voice but doesn’t realise it’s him and thinks there’s a lost kid in the mansion and searches for it.

Chucky/Charles Lee Ray:

⋆ Forgot his soul was in a Good Guy and wonders why he suddenly has the height of a midget. ⋆ Laughs and then laughs at his laugh; remembered what was so funny to initially make him laugh and laughs more. ⋆ Goes to a toy store and sits on a shelf to scare any kids who pick him up. He thinks it’s hilarious.

Hannibal Lecter:

⋆ Being under the influence takes his intelligence away. This son of a bitch can’t even remember his own name, let alone form a sentence. ⋆ Always wondered what he would taste like, so without hesitation, he takes a bite out of his arm. ⋆ Tells Clarice he knows who killed all those people and whispers, ‘It was me.’

Pennywise:

⋆ Casually gate-crashes a kid’s birthday party and tries to entertain the children, not thinking he looks scary at all, so why are these little bastards running away from him? ⋆ Can’t for the life of him understand why his red nose doesn’t honk when he squeezes it. ⋆ Wonders why his name is Pennywise when he feels as though it should be Pennybroke due to the lack of money he’s got. (He has none.)

Pinhead:

⋆ Doesn’t like to stand next to Chatterer because that boy looks weird af. ⋆ Wants to switch the puzzle box for a jack-in-the-box for shits and giggles. ⋆ Swings around on a chain, singing, 'I came in like a wrecking ball; I just want to rule the world…’

Norman Bates:

⋆ When he dresses as his mother, he wonders where Norman disappeared to. ⋆ Tries to spy on h i m s e l f undressing through a peephole. Lots of running back and forth is involved. ⋆ Good trip takes a drastic 180° into a bad trip and he just ends up sitting in a corner, knees to his chest, rocking himself through the endless tears.

Billy Loomis & Stu Macher:

⋆ Cheech and Chong for the new generation. ⋆ Thinks they sing wonderfully together but it’s really just inaudible screaming. ⋆ Shares stoner thoughts with each other. If 55 is fifty-five and 44 is forty-four, shouldn’t 11 be onety-one?

John Kramer:

⋆ Low-key scared of Billy and believes he will come alive. ⋆ Wonders if he should test his own traps on himself to make sure they work. ⋆ Begins to torture a victim but forgets his motives halfway through and hurries to save them from death.

Samara Morgan:

⋆ Thinks it’s amazing how she can crawl out of a TV and keeps going in and out. The person in their lounge room, sitting in front of the said TV is absolutely shitting themselves with fear. ⋆ Wonders if she got stuck in the well because she fell in and drank all the water. ⋆ Considers herself to be blind and doesn’t realise it’s just her hair blocking the view.

Dracula:

⋆ Wonders if he should consult a dentist about those oddly long canines. ⋆ Hi, I’m Count Dracula and this is Jackass! and dares himself to eat garlic. Both regrets and forgets to record the stunt. ⋆ Following the reckless theme, he jumps out of a window to fly but forgets to transform into a bat.

Yautja:

⋆ Does. Not. Know. What. He. Is. And. Does. Not. Want. To. Know. ⋆ High-key afraid of himself and avoids all mirrors and reflective surfaces at all costs. ⋆ Wonders if he has a chronic disease because it can’t be healthy to look like this.

[cupidmarwani-archive]

Natural (8/12)

The door is unlocked when Will gets to Connor’s, which is dangerous as hell, but time saving because he can let himself in without a problem. He’s never been inside here before, but he can tell it had been a clean, well kept apartment at one point. But now there are blankets and pillows all over the floor, something Dr. Charles would have a field day with because it shows how unsafe Connor is feeling, how desperate he is to nest that he’s attempted to make his entire apartment into one. It breaks Will’s heart, really does, but he can’t focus on it for longer than a minute or so when the scent of heat is overwhelming him and he can hear Connor’s desperate little whimpers coming from what must be his nest.

“Connor? I’m here.”

“Alpha?”

Will follows the sound and scent to a bedroom, surprised to see Connor splayed out on the floor, crying, as opposed to in his nest or even on the bed. He’s undressed, but clearly in need of a bath, and has likely been since yesterday sometime after he ran away from Will. He smells, not only like slick and heat, but like sweat and fear and an undercurrent of Ava. It’s that last one that must be torturing him, having him scratching at his neck even though the skin is already covered in raised lines and irritated. It’s that which makes Will drop down to his knees heavily and grab his wrists to make him stop.

The second he makes contact, Connor relaxes and tips his head back, looking at Will through hooded lids. His hips raise off the floor a little, but Will ignores it because no matter what he thinks he wants, he can’t consent to it. The most Will can do is groom away Ava’s scent and hold Connor through the worst of it, which he starts at immediately. He rubs his own scent glands against Connor’s, and for a second, allows himself to indulge in how good this all smells and feels. Like for once, he’s doing something right. 

When he pulls away, Connor guides his hands down, toward his waist, and Will knows he needs to stop now. He glances down though, and what he sees chills him to the bone. Two small, but dark, bruises right along the inside of his hips, above the glands in his torso that make the slick currently soaking the sheets beneath them.

“Who did that to you?” he demands.

Connor just whines. 

“Omega. Tell me. Who did that to you?”

“Alpha,” Connor says plaintively, and lifts his arms to cling to Will. It’s weird, seeing him give in so much to his instincts, to see him in a heat and openly craving touch and love. Would he be like this more often if he felt safe? It’s near impossible to know. “Hurts.”

Yeah, it probably does. He needs ice, but the second Will pulls away to go get some, Connor yelps and grabs at him tighter, burying his face in the crook of Will’s neck. He can feel each damp breath against his skin, and then the teeth that follow because Christ, Connor is biting him, and he can’t entirely remember why he isn’t pushing Connor’s legs apart and following his instincts to claim in a way that Bekker can’t come near. It would feel so good, and Connor would truly be his.

He forces himself to pull away before he does something he can’t undo. “Connor, stop.”

Connor whines as Will detaches himself. He looks so sad. So small. 

“I’ll be right back, I promise.”

Will sprints to the kitchen and opens Connor’s freezer. It’s mostly popsicles and ice cream, but he’s able to track down a couple of sports ice packs, the soft kind full of blue gel. Leave it to Connor to have something Will would’ve killed for when he broke his arm in the fourth grade. He carries the both of the ice packs back to Connor, who’s started rubbing his face against where Will was just sitting. 

“Alpha, Alpha please-” 

“Hey, I’m right here.”

He drops down to the ground again and allows Connor to get in his lap, because in all honesty, there’s no point in telling him no right now. At least it makes it easier to hold the ice packs to the bruises on Connor’s stomach, even if the temperature contrast to his fevered skin makes him tense up.

“Breathe, you’re okay. I’ve got you. When was the last time you had water?”

Instead of answering, Connor whines and tries to kiss Will, and he can’t deny him something so simple. He’s thought about this, he’ll admit. A real kiss. Connor’s lips are chapped, but he’s eager and just a little messy and he smells like desire. Not just the emptiness of unattached heat, like before, but true arousal and want, and Will has to believe that it means something. But he has to remember, this could still very much be the heat talking. And he can’t in good conscience take advantage of that.

“I’m gonna get you a drink, can you hold these?” Will tries to get Connor to hold the ice packs in place, but his hands are uncoordinated and weak and he doesn’t manage it. He looks up at Will with these sad eyes and there’s nothing in that moment he wouldn’t do for him. “Okay. I’ll be right back, don’t move.”

It wasn’t a command, but Connor goes still and he looks so trusting. Will could never do anything to jeopardize his trust in him, never would. He just smiles and goes to get water, and whatever else he can think of so he doesn’t have to abandon Connor again. A cup. A box of protein bars he finds in the cabinet. A pitcher of orange juice. Both of the plastic water bottles on the top shelf of the fridge. He carries it all and sets it on the floor, just far enough away that it won’t get knocked over before getting one of the water bottles to Connor’s lips.

“There you go,” he praises. It’s instinct to make sure Connor knows he’s good. “Breathe. I’ve got you. Can you drink it on your own?”

The answer is no, but that’s okay. Will helps him finish the bottle, then goes back to holding the ice packs to the bruises. That’s probably an overreaction, but he would feel better getting them examined for damage, and that’s not happening any time soon with Connor just starting his heat. He can’t get over how much Connor trusts him, to have called him for help and then allowed him to care for him.

One of Connor’s hands raises to brush against Will’s neck, like he’s trying to mark him back. He’s so fucking cute right now. His blue eyes are too easy to get lost in, as enrapturing as his scent that Will is sure he’ll never be able to scrub out of his skin after this. He gets so distracted that he loses track of his hands until Connor yelps and jerks away from him. For a moment, Will’s terrified of what he might’ve done, but he looks down and realizes he was just pressing a little more firmly into Connor’s stomach. He lifts the ice packs and sucks in a breath. The bruises are bigger.

“Okay, you need to tell me what happened.”

Connor shakes his head. “Can’t.”

“Yes you can, Omega. Please, tell me what happened.”

Calling him Omega relaxes him at the very least, but he still won’t tell Will what caused this, which gives him the sneaking suspicion that it was Ava. The memory of Connor’s scent all over her comes back. She could’ve forced him into an early heat, hurt him. If he was already stressed from her actions, at risk from five years of suppressants, this could be really bad. The doctor in his mind wants to take Connor in for a real examination, make sure he’s not in danger right now. But the Alpha doesn’t want anyone else to see or smell Connor like this, and wants to protect the fragile Omega who can barely speak right now. 

“Let me take a look then, okay? Can I touch you?”

He nods immediately, grabs for Will’s hands to put them where he wants and pouting when Will doesn’t let him. As carefully as he can, he feels for swelling and tenderness on Connor’s abdomen, just to reassure himself until he figures out a plan. It just seems like bruising, but he’s still nervous.  He wants to make sure Connor is okay. But he has to realize, he has an obligation as Connor’s friend, as an Alpha, to make him as happy and calm right now as possible.

The best he can do is replace the ice packs and kiss Connor’s throat again to try and keep him calm.

[skgway]

1820 Dec., Fri. 8

8 3/4

12 3/4

Letter from my aunt (Shibden). My uncle has heard from Mr. Bilton, but no answer to any of the proposals except concerning the mode of payment. From 12 to 2 walked with Miss V– [Miss Vallance]. Got 1/2 way over the East balk, but the wind sent us back– Walked about in the fields near Etty’s farm and afterwards took a turn or 2 in the low garden – 

From 3 to 4 walked with Anne B– [Belcombe] up and down the East balk, rather harum skarum in talk and hinting at the lover-like. She does not dislike it and I believe has a little sneaking regard for [me]. I wished δ [Charles Lawton] out of the way and would rather wait twenty years for 𝝅 [Mariana] if she wished it than miss her –

Dawdled away the evening Miss V– [Vallance] pretty well, but very low after she came upstairs to bed – Sat tête-à-tête three quarters hour, from eleven and a half, yet she likes me amid all her sorrow –

Came upstairs at 10 1/2 – wrote the above of today just before getting into bed – Very fine warm day but high wind –

[sideways in margin] A few minutes in Anne’s room kissing her as she sat on my knee undressing –

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Wednesday 29 May 1839

7 40/..

1 5/..

very fine morning stood undressed writing – copy of Rooks coal loose paragraph for A- and stopped her long foolscap sheet letter to her sister F57 ½° inside and 74 ½° outside in the sun (fine air) at 9 ¾ - and breakfast in about ½ hour – then came upstairs – A- sat with me (in the blue room) finishing her letter to her sister and I wrote to ‘Monsieur Cusinberche aîné Rue St. Victor no. 27 à Paris affranchie’ and sent by George my letter to the P.O. and A- sent to hers to her sister at 11 40/.. and I having read over draft of Hinscliffe new agreement for the coal in the Flashes field adjoining the Crownest carriage road, A- sent it with note to P. and A. desiring them to have the agreement (indenture) ready for signing on Friday morning by H- at their office – to pay for ¾ acre per annum at the rate of £150 per acre by 2 equal payments 112.10.0/2 10 November and 10 May commencing 10th instant – term to expire 10 November 1843 – quantity supposed to be about one acre 2 roods or thereabouts – but to get what can be gotten of the low bed in that field – then (at 11 40/..) set A- to trace plan of the estate (for the colliery workings to be traced on) and I wrote letter for DB. to copy offering to furnish to the H-x gaslight and coke co. 550 tons of coal delivered at their works at 8/. per ton according to the times and proportions stated in their printed circular – dated Listerwick colliery and signed David Booth agent – went down to DB. at 12 5/.. and with him talking of the colliery etc. till 1 when he went to dine with the servants and I went to A- with her at her luncheon – then out with DB. at 1 5/.. – went with him to Listerwick – looked about there – saw his settling out of JO-‘s farm yard – went to Charles Howarth’s about his damages – he had had a fit on Friday – poorly but out – had been at H-x on Saturday – mentioned having a quart of milk a day, and sending them the cow to keep – yes! Mrs. Howarth said they could manage all this very well – then with JO. sometime – asked if he really would like to leave the farm – yes! if he and I could agree about the valuation – explained – I had no objection – would agree to what reasonable – JO. said he had never had a lease – he took Pump sometime before Pearson took Denmark – I expressed my surprise and my persuasion that he had had a lease but Mr. Briggs had lost it – I at liberty to offer the farm to Holt – afterwards talked the matter over to DB. – said there were £20 worth of cottages and I had thought of asking £80 for the place if Holt did not take it – DB. owned it was worth that – said the land was worth £60 and valued 27DW. Charles H-‘s land at £60 and agreed the land and buildings were worth £70 – I said I had a tenant in view – Empsall who had the Allen car – but this not to be named – said I would let Holt have the place at £70 and pay him £30 per annum for managing i.e. measuring off and looking after the colliery but I should never give him any more – in fact, he would not have much to do – all would be done in DB.’s name as my agent – If I let the colliery, he (Holt) had no chance

SH:7/ML/E/23/0054

of it – I had asked JO. if in case I let it I might bind the tenant down to get or pay for 4 acres a year – yes! I ought to do that or the tenant would not get 2 acres a year – thought if I bought Walshs’ coal, I ought to pay for 2 acres a year – then took DB. to Dobsons’ quarry – ruttly – then to Womersleys’ quarry – very thin – but the thinnest last baring would average 4 or 5ft. – then saw over Womersleys’ house – very neat – they have papered all the rooms – then to Mark Towns’ – 200 cube yard s of stuff I should be thrown up and a 6ft. high bur wall along the foot to make him a sheltered stack yard up against his mistal – then stuff could not be moved for less than 6d. a yard – DB. to think about it – as also about the alterations and addition of news-room at the Stump x Inn – then at Listerwick – Holt and Joseph Mann had been dialling all the afternoon for the WP. main gates – according told JM-‘s plan we should drive plumb board (up the hill) 300 yards from AP. and then 435 yards cross to WP. – I wanted to begin by driving north end (low surface side – towards Lower brea) from AP. and then board to WP. – no! could not do that – dib side – we should be fast in water – home at 7 – dinner at 7 10/.. – A- and I out at 8 ¾ to 9 ½ - at Listerwick, and sauntered back and came in at 9 ½ - coffee – A- read French – asleep – then till 11 ½ wrote all but the 2 first lines of today – very fine day – went into the cellar after dinner 1 champagne – each had 3 glasses – came upstairs at 10 50/.. at which hour F55 ½° inside and 45 ½° outside –

[18thfoot]

24th May 1853 - Burma Lieutenant Colonel Charles Coote died in Burma. Coote served in the 69th (South Lincolnshire) Regiment where he rose to the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel by purchase in Nov 1848. Soon after this date he exchanged into the 18th Royal Irish as second in command, and went on his first campaign after 20 years as an officer. In Burma he led the regiment when it stormed the Great Pagoda in Rangoon on 14th April 1852. He was severely wounded in the attack which may have contributed to his death. The photo shows him wearing an officer's waist-length shell jacket which is scarlet with dark blue collar and pointed cuffs. His beard conceals the collar which, being a field officer, would have had embroidered rank badges, a crown on each side. There are gold twisted shoulder cords on each side. His gilt buttons are placed in pairs and he has an undress black leather waist-belt for his sword. Colonel Coote is commemorated on the Royal Irish Regiment Burma War Memorial in St. Patrick's Cathedral, Dublin #18thfoot #royalirishregiment #redcoat #britisharmy #britishempire #burma #secondburmawar https://www.instagram.com/p/Cd768nFjFx5/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[veryfineday]

Wednesday 10 May 1837

6 1/4

11 1/2

V

slept in K.C.[Kitchen Chamber] fine morning Fahrenheit 43º at 7 5/.. and went out – marK Hepworth just come and Charles and James Howarth and the lad to get up and reset railing – with them and in Trough of Bolland with Robert and co. and at the Lodge –

came in at 8 1/2 – with A-[Ann] then had mawson about (before 9) his cart had brought one load (brought on yesterday) of fillings (rubble) instead of wall-stone from Staups old barn – that would not do – told mawson I would have the meer done according to the terms he set me yesterday – whether the pitching should be more or less in quantity would not signify – mr. Harper would measure off – the job to be begun on monday – m-[Mawson] to see the tenants and settle about a road – I to be at James Smith’s about the road at 8 a.m. tomorrow –

[margin: m-[Mawson] to do the meer-banKs]

breakfast at 9 1/2 to 10 – then out again at the Lodge – A-[Ann] very soom came with Robert Schofield to go to HagstocKs wood this end, about walling off the low side – the railing worn out – recommended 4 feet high including tops, and tops put on with lime – Robert S-[Schofield] thought he should have 3/.[shillings] per rood for walling and the bit of the heying away for the wall-race – and 8 d.[pence] per rood for putting the tops on with lime – in this the taKing up the old railing including – rotten – will not take much time in getting up –

[margin: A-’s[Ann’s] HagstocKs wood walling]

tooK shelter in the spa house stable – yet after all caught in a heavyish hail and snow shower – A-’s[Ann’s] gown wetish – she stopt at the Lodge and got dried – I about – with mr. Gray and the men moving a large thorn from the old hedge between wood and wheat field to the Lodge – walKed bacK with A-[Ann] and came in at 12 1/4 – wrote the above of today till 12 35/.. – went into the cellar – with A-[Ann] at her luncheon –

out again at 1 1/4 – with Robert and Sam maKing room on the precipice near the Lodge (right side going to there from the hall) for a sycamore taKen up from upper side near glenbridge and wheatfield – then bacKwards and forwards with the men getting up thorn from the hedge between wood and wheatfield and with Charles and James Howarth and the lad (Smith) and Carter and Richard Hanson holing and resetting posts and rails taKen up from the division [p?] parting all the low land let to Carr –

came in at 7 – dressed – waited for A-’s[Ann’s] note to mr. Holt (James) about his going tomorrow to Bouldshaw – dinner at 7 1/2 coffee at 8 1/2 – came upstairs at 10 – asleep on the sofa with A-Ann 1/2 hour – then undressed her – fine morning till about 11 1/2 or a little before – afterwards very showery – hail and rain – very rainy afternoon till fair about (after) 6 – Fahrenheit 37º at 11 p.m.

[rreader]

Radiant Beauty

Pairing: Gaston x Reader Fandom: Disney ; BatB (2017) Warnings: smut Requested by: @missmewtwo

Summary: Gaston easily gets jealous. You show him, that there is no reason for him to be.

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY ANGEL!!!!!! I honestly hope you have a fantastic day and that this is a nice present!!! <333 thanks for all your support, it means the world to me!

                                                             *****

Weddings truly were something wonderful.

A day filled with so much happiness.

And then there was also the food and the dresses. Because you loved those two things just as much as the wedding itself.

And in a small village, such as the one you were living in, everyone was invited to a wedding. Everyone was there to celebrate the love of two people.

You got there a bit later than everyone else, mainly because you had promised to bake a cake for the happy couple and had burnt the first one.

And when you walked up to the table where everyone had placed the food on, you didn’t even realize how many eyes were on you.

No one could blame them, though.

You wore an ankle-length, auburn dress, with flowers embroidery, as well as a corset, but one that was relatively low-cut, so the dress did not only complement your figure, but also your breasts. It wasn’t so that they could be falling out any second, but it looked really good that way.

Summed up, you looked stunning.

And everyone at the wedding seemed to think so.

Especially one man, who stood at the back and smiled at you, while you were trying to find the perfect spot for the cake.

His smile faltered mere moments later, though, when another man approached you.

“Good evening, (Y/N).”

You looked up, some strands of hair that you didn’t include in the bun falling into your face and you quickly pushed them behind your ear.

“Charles, hello!” you gave him a tender smile.

“You look radiant today,” he smiled back at you.

“Only today, then?” A moment of silence when he didn’t know what to say to that. You laughed and placed your hand on his arm. “I’m just teasing you.”

He let out a breath of relief and joined in with the laughter, rubbing the back of his neck, a little insecure.

Your conversation was cut off only a second later, when the priest announced that the ceremony was about to begin, so everyone got to their seats and you quickly bid your farewells to Charles. He expressed that he was hoping to have a chance to talk to you later that evening again, but you simply smiled at him, not promising anything.

The ceremony was held out in the open field and only a few chairs were there to sit on.

Those were reserved for family and the elder people of the village, so you stood way, WAY in the back.

And when you felt someone breathing against your neck you smiled, knowing who it was without having to turn around.

“Hello there, beautiful,” you felt his hands on your waist and he pulled you towards him.

You giggled a little and put your hands over his.

“This is a wedding, Gaston. Stop it.”

He took a quick look around.

“No one’s back here except for us,” he leaned down and pressed a kiss behind your ear. “How about we sneak away for a few moments?”

You bit your lip.

This was so inappropriate, that it was also really exciting.

“What has brought this on, so suddenly?”

“Maybe I’ve just missed you.”

“Mhm.. and you’re sure this isn’t because of the other men that are looking at me today, hoping to start a conversation with me? Hoping that I’ll go home with them tonight? And knowing that you’re the only one I’ll actually do that with?”

He grinned and was incredibly thankful that you had decided to put your hair up today. He left a small lovebite on your shoulder.

“So.. is that a yes to sneaking away?”

“Be patient, my love. As soon as they’ve made their vows,” you interlinked your hands with his and leaned against his firm chest.

And when Charles turned around in the middle of the ceremony to look at you, Gaston only hugged you tighter against his chest, a proud smirk on his face, as he stared directly into his eyes.

Charles blushed and quickly averted his eyes, which only made Gaston’s grin widen.

And as you had promised Gaston, you grabbed his hands as soon as you’ve congratulated both bride and groom and pulled him away from the wedding and towards his house.

Since you weren’t married yet, you were still living with your family. But he had his own place, so that made everything a lot easier.

When you closed the door behind you, you turned around and smiled sweetly at him.

He returned the same, fond smile and leaned down to pick you up, arms under your butt and carrying you towards the bed.

You laughed and buried your head in the crock of his neck.

“Don’t ruin the dress this time!”

“Would I ever?” he softly placed you on the covers and laid next to you, then he placed a small kiss on your lips.

One small kiss turned into many and sooner rather than later, his hands were fumbling to open up your corset.

His clothes only took him about a minute to get rid off, yet when it came down to your dresses, it always felt like ages.

And, of course, he wouldn’t let you help him, so you just laid there, hand running through his hair and giggling a bit.

Once you were completely naked, he proudly grinned at you.

“No one undresses like Gaston,” that was the moment you broke out in laughter and pulled him between your legs, otherwise this wouldn’t start for another hour and he would keep complimenting himself.

When you wouldn’t stop laughing, he simply kissed you passionately, arms going around your body and turning you so you were both lying on your sides.

Your left leg went over his hip and one of his hands wandered down to your butt.

His plan worked. You had stopped laughing completely now and instead started moaning, once he entered you, a content smile still gracing your face. All he could do was smile back at you and wonder..

How?

How is it possible for ME to have someone like YOU by my side?

His hand that was previously on your butt, softly went up to your knee pit, his fingertips leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. He gently pulled your knee a little higher so he’d hit the spot that would make you see stars in mere minutes.

He did not stop kissing you for even a moment. Passionate and meaningful kisses. 

The only time you two parted, was when you needed some air to fill your lungs again.

But even then, your faces were barely apart, nose against nose, hot breath clashing against the mouth of the other, while low moans escaped both of your throats, his hips pushing into yours, over and over again. You could already feel your walls tighten around him.

“Mine,” he whispered against your mouth, so low, that you could barely hear it.

You didn’t know whether he was saying it to you or to himself.

But you smiled nonetheless and tenderly stroked over his cheekbone with your thumb.

“Yours,” you replied, a happy smile on his face.

And a second later, when he buried his face in your neck, you could feel him speed up his movements and fill you a second later.

[encyclopedia-victoria-blog]

History Behind the Story - The Baby Princess

Queen Victoria and Prince Albert’s first child, Victoria Adelaide Mary Louisa, the Princess Royal, was born at Buckingham Palace on the 21st of November 1840. The real baby Vicky was actually nicknamed “Pussy” for the first few years of her life - something the ITV series chooses not to recreate!

Read more about the baby Princess under the cut.

Queen Victoria and Prince Albert’s first child arrived three weeks early, taking everyone by surprise. ‘Just before the early hours of the morning of the 21rst[of November]’  Victoria wrote in her journal, she had woken feeling ‘very uncomfortable & with difficulty aroused Albert from his sleep’:

Tried to get to sleep again, but by 4, I got very bad and both the Doctors arrived. My beloved Albert was so dear & kind. [The Doctor] said the Baby was on the way & everything was all right. We both expressed joy that the event was at hand, & I did not feel at all nervous. 

Unusually for the era, Prince Albert stayed with his wife throughout her labour. He was, wrote Victoria, ‘the greatest comfort and support.’ The baby arrived at two that afternoon (‘alas! a girl & not a boy, as we both had so hoped & wished for’) and was immediately whisked away ‘stark naked’ to be shown to the official witnesses including the Prime Minister, Lord Melbourne, the Foreign Minister and the Archbishop of Canterbury.

“Victoria asleep, aged 3 weeks” - pen and watercolour sketch by Queen Victoria dated 12th December 1840 (Royal Collection)

Queen Victoria recovered quickly from the birth - a day later she ‘felt as well as if nothing had happened’ and by mid-December happily reported that she was ‘walking about the house like myself again.’ Both mother and baby were strong enough to travel to Windsor for Christmas. Victoria had chosen not to breastfeed her new daughter, and hired instead a Mrs Ratsey of Cowes, Isle of Wight, to act as wet nurse. Mrs Ratsey was required to show deference to the baby’s rank by always standing while she breastfed her.

Baby Victoria, or “Pussy” as her parents began to affectionately call her, slotted in easily to Queen Victoria and Prince Albert’s busy lives. She was brought down from the nursery to see them twice a day - once after breakfast and again in the afternoon when Victoria changed for dinner. Victoria loved to show off her daughter to visitors to the place, and would produce the baby for even her cabinet ministers to see. On the 11th of December 1840 Victoria proudly described ‘our dear little Child’ in her journal:

She gets daily prettier, & is so "éveillé" [alert] for her age. I hope & think she will be like her beloved Father. She has large, bright, dark blue eyes, a nice little nose & mouth, a very good complexion, with a little colour in her cheeks, very unusual, for so young a Baby.

Lithograph of Victoria, Princess Royal with her parents Queen Victoria and Prince Albert. Published by William Spooner c.1840. (British Museum)

The doting parents micromanaged every aspect of baby Vicky’s infant life. Prince Albert wrote long memoranda outlining how the nursery should be run - the Princess was not to be left alone, she couldn’t be shown to anyone or taken out of the nursery without the express permission of her parents, and the nurses had to consult either the Queen or Prince Albert before they acted on the doctor’s orders. Prince Albert even slept with the key to the nursery under his pillow.

The baby Princess was christened in the Throne Room at Buckingham Palace on the 9th of February 1841, her parent’s first wedding anniversary. She was given the names “Victoria Adelaide Mary Louisa” after her mother, both grandmothers, and Queen Victoria’s aunt, the Dowager Queen Adelaide. Victoria recorded the day in her journal:

Today it is a year, that I have been blessed by becoming the wife of my beloved Albert. What perfect happiness I have enjoyed since then! & how I pray it may continue. This anniversary must ever be the most precious one in my life. — Albert gave me a little brooch representing a cradle with the Child in it, — the quaintest thing I ever saw & so pretty. 

[... I] Dressed in a white ribbed silk gown, trimmed with my wedding lace, with my diamond Diadem, necklace of Turkish diamonds, & Albert's beautiful sapphire & diamond brooch. He was in his Field Marshal's uniform with high boots, & looked so handsome. We went into the Green Drawingroom & received all the Company. When all had arrived, the Archbishops of Canterbury & York, the Bishops of London & Norwich, & the Dean of Carlisle (as Vicar of the Parish in which our child was born) went into the Throne Room, which was very handsomely filled up as a Chapel. We 2, with our suite, went in soon after we then sent for the Child who looked very dear in a white Honiton point lace robe & mantle, over white satin. [...] The Archbishop of Canterbury christened the Baby from the new Font, & with water from the river Jordan, sent by Dr Browning for the purpose. The names the child was given were: Victoria, Adelaide, Mary Louisa. She was wide awake & never cried, though the Archbishop held her most uncomfortably. My sincere & fervent Prayers were offered up for our dear Child. [...]  Albert a I agreed that all had gone off beautifully & in a very dignified manner.

Albert wrote proudly that his daughter was:

awake, but did not cry at all, and seemed to crow with immense satisfaction at the sights and brilliant uniforms, for she is very intelligent and observing.

Princess Victoria’s christening as painted by Charles Robert Leslie c. 1841-2. Adelaide, the Queen Dowager, whom the Princess was named after, steps forward to name the baby. (Royal Collection)

Albert had designed his daughter’s christening font himself (silver gilt with cherubs and waterlilies to represent purity and new life), and he composed a chorale for the banquet held that evening in the princess’ honour. The centerpiece of the grand occasion was a tiered christening cake topped with an edible sugar figure of Britannia holding a tiny sugar Vicky. Lady Sarah Lyttleton (who was later appointed governess to the royal children) was among the attendees. In a letter to her daughter, Lady Lyttleton described her impression of the baby princess:

She is a fine, fat, firm, fair, royal-looking baby, sitting bolt upright, and too absurdly like the Queen; grave, calm, and penetrating in her look, most gentle and sweet-tempered. She wore a very plain white pelisse of muslin, and a droll little Quaker-shaped straw bonnet; no bows or bustle about her, and she surveyed us all most composedly for a minute. She was shewn at her carriage-window to all the standers-by, and it was amusing to us who followed to see the universal grin left upon all faces after their look at her. She will soon have seen every pair of teeth in the kingdom. They say she laughs, crows, and kicks very heartily, and the Prince tosses her often. 

Although both of her parents had initially felt disappointed that Vicky was not the son and heir they had hoped for, they had quickly became besotted. Albert in particular doted upon his baby daughter and the pair remained close throughout their lives. 'Our young lady flourishes exceedingly,’ wrote Queen Victoria to her uncle Leopold when the princess was six weeks old:

I think you would be amused to see Albert dancing with her in his arms; he makes such a capital nurse (which I do not, and she is much too heavy for me to carry), and she already seems so happy to go to him.

There is a popular myth that Queen Victoria hated her own children, largely inspired by a series of letters she wrote to Vicky in the 1850s and 60s after Vicky had married and was beginning to have children of her own. Victoria, who had by this stage had given birth to nine children (and likely suffered postpartum depression after some of the births), wrote that being pregnant made her feel ‘like a cow or a dog’ and that she disliked very little babies:

I have no tendre [fondness] for them until they become a little human; an ugly baby is a very nasty object - and the prettiest is frightful when undressed - till about four months; in short as long as they have their big bodies and little limbs and that terrible frog-like action. 

But sensational articles like “Queen Victoria hated her children, say academics” (Telegraph, 2012) and “Queen Victoria adored Prince Albert so much it made her loath her nine children” (Mirror, 2016) do not tell the whole story. Queen Victoria had a whole host of complex feelings about motherhood, including a deep and sincere love for her children. In another letter to Vicky, she reminisced fondly about her daughter’s babyhood:

[...] though I hated the thought having children and have no adoration for very little babies, (particularly not in their baths till they are past 3 or 4 months, when they really become very lovely) still I know what a fuss and piece of work was made of you [...] I used to have you in my dressing room - while I dressed for dinner, dancing on Mrs Pegley’s [the nurse] knees - till you got so lively that you did not sleep at night. All that was very foolish, and I warn you against it - but one is very foolish with one’s first child.

Miniature of the Princess Royal as an angel by Sir William Ross, signed and dated 1841. Prince Albert had this miniature copied and made into an enamel brooch set with sapphires, rubies, emeralds, diamonds and topazes which he gave to his wife that year for Christmas. Victoria was ‘delighted’. (Royal Collection)

Further Reading:

Queen Victoria’s letters and journals

An Uncommon Woman: The Empress Frederick by Hannah Pakula

Queen Victoria’s Children by John van der Kiste

Victoria the Queen by Julia Baird

[darkerstories]

💛 (from Charles - since he has a Tudor verse he had seen battle)

Fantasy Smut || @adsagsona​ || accepting

Send 💛 to receive tender loving care after a battle by Nathan the monk

Nathan had wandered through the bodies on the battle field, his heart heavy with grief as he offered dying men a last sip of water or to listen to their last words. Enemies or not, most people wanted somebody with them in their final moments. Then he came across a man he first mistook for dead, but then he moved and Nathan knelt beside him, carefully looking him over. As distoriented and half unconsious as the man was, he seemed to have no fatal wounds. 

Acting swiftly, Nathan lifted him and carried him back to the monestary. His older brothers shook their heads at him as he passed - was he bringing in another lost cause to die under their roof? Not this time. He resolutely laid the man down on top of his own bed, undressing him as carefully as possible as to not upset the wounds. The he proceeded to clean and bandage every wound, and noted with no small amount of satisfaction that the wounds were minor. 

The man’s eye lashes fluttered as he woke up. Nathan was gently washing his neck and chest with soft cloth and cold, clear water when their eyes met.

“Be at ease”, he said kindly, leaning back slightly to give the man some space. “You are not with God just yet. Just in one of His humble houses.”

[frustratedcastingdirector]

I found larger versions of the publicity photos for the 2000 James Lapine play, “The Moment When.”  Here is a reblog of the Variety review of the play by Charles Isherwood.  (I previously had paired it with a theatre review of Timothy McNeil’s “Margaret” - which Mark directed that same year - since there were no photos with that review for “The Moment When”). 

——————————————————————————————-

Review: ‘The Moment When’

Charles Isherwood  MARCH 26, 2000 | 11:00PM PT

Clearly, I don’t know how things work. I’m just wandering in the dark here,“ says a worried mother in the final moments of James Lapine’s rich, prismatic new play “The Moment When,” making its world premiere in a cruelly brief run at Playwrights Horizons. This extraordinarily ambitious piece of writing dares to take the audience to similarly murky places, without bothering to put up the usual signposts or even making the expected dramatic explanations. It begins as a brittle romantic comedy about young New Yorkers apparently negotiating a one-night stand, but ends some two and a half-hours later wandering into far darker territory, even gently tiptoeing toward tragedy.

In its quiet way, “The Moment When” makes major demands on both actors and audiences. Under Michael Lindsay-Hogg’s sensitive direction, the excellent cast is more than up to the task, but not many audiences will have the chance to rise to its challenges, since “The Moment When” closed March 26, less than a week after its delayed opening. The play and the production deserve a longer life.The slightly glib first scene is set at a literary cocktail party in 1984, where we meet the main characters. Steven (Mark Ruffalo), a rumpled young artist who makes a living designing book jackets, is putting the moves on Alice (Illeana Douglas), who’s instantly — and rather stridently — put off by his aggressiveness, despite his certainly endearing boyishness. Almost visibly cynical, Alice is ready to bolt when the party’s hostess Paula (Phyllis Newman), her powerful literary agent, descends on the sniping couple with her new assistant Dana (Arija Bareikis) in tow.

After rudely receiving Dana’s gushing praise for her novel, Alice leaves the field, and Steven instantly transfers his attentions to the naive Dana, who soon finds herself back at his loft. Now it’s her turn to rebuff his advances, but Steven is so insistently apologetic that Dana suddenly changes her mind, and slowly begins to undress — to pose for a painting, it seems.

During this scene the play makes its first unsettling detour. As the lights dim onstage and Dana and Steven freeze in place, a young boy (Kieran Culkin) suddenly lopes down the center aisle and addresses the audience, casually confiding details of his first sexual experiences, for which he seems to be far too young. Who is he?

We learn soon enough who he is, for in the next scene, which takes place two years later than the last, Steven is at the hospital, greeting his newborn son Charlie with the bumbling mix of nervousness, joy and fear endemic to new fatherhood (expertly played by the inimitable Ruffalo, best known for his perf in Kenneth Lonergan’s “This Is Our Youth”).

The scene contains a broad gag — a nurse bustles on and snatches the baby from the cooing Steven’s hands; she’d given him the wrong one. It’s a farcically funny moment, but not just an extraneous laugh-getter. “The Moment When” is about life’s odd twists and turns, the roads taken and not taken, connections lost and found. Even something as primal as fatherhood, Lapine suggests, is mysteriously susceptible to influences outside our own — it owes an awful lot to chance and timing and circumstance.

Had Alice not rebuffed Steven at Paula’s party, for instance, Dana and Steven would not now be married with child — and Steven would not be cheating on Dana with his assistant. Alice, for that matter, whom Steven runs into at the hospital, might not be traveling through the dark waters she finds herself in.

“The Moment When” is not a tidy play, squarely sticking to meticulously drawn main characters, a reasonable time frame and a single theme — the working mother dilemma, the straying husband drama, the rearing of a wayward child, or the struggle to keep a career on track in the face of life’s complications. It briefly but perceptively contemplates all of these and more in its two acts, traveling through more than 15 years. Like life, it has ragged edges, rough spots, and is stuffed to bursting with surprises and setbacks. It’s peopled by characters who have stories too complicated to fit neatly into its two acts, and who make major transitions between scenes. Our sympathy has to fill in the gaps — the way it must for friends and colleagues seen only at rare intervals.

The title refers to those turning points that pass by us unnoticed, the moment when a marriage is destroyed, when a career is suddenly derailed, when a child strays beyond the influence of a distracted parent’s love, when innocence is lost. Those moments are never precisely defined, and Lapine’s play shows us some while gliding by others.

Alice, a wreck in one scene, reemerges with a bestselling novel and a power suit a half-hour later. Dana, last seen on a fast track at Paula’s agency, announces she’s moving to Chicago to write children’s books, in a scene during which we also learn that she and Steven have long since divorced. Steven spirals slowly into a disappointed life before suddenly joining up with Alice in the end.

In structure, scope and style “The Moment When” may remind you of two British imports from last season, “Closer” and “Amy’s View,” but there is nothing derivative about its immense wit and insight and sensitivity.

The play has its awkward spots, its coarse or clunky lines, but the talents of the cast override them. Bareikis effortlessly makes convincing her character’s transformation from giggly post-collegiate girl in the first scene to harried but loving mom minutes later. Ruffalo is that rare actor who never seems to have even a finger placed for audience effect — he’s entirely inside the play, living it with all the naturalness of a real human being. Douglas pushes the neurotic mannerisms a trifle hard in her first scene (and her character could use some more stage time), but warms touchingly in the last act, while Newman is sharp and funny in the most strictly comic role.

Culkin is utterly natural and simply terrific in the role of Dana and Steven’s son Wilson. Significantly, the character never interacts with his parents onstage until the play’s final moment. Lapine’s point: While parents are moving restlessly through their lives, attending to their kids as best they can amid various crises and conflicts, a child’s life is always on its own strange trajectory toward self-fulfillment or self-destruction.

Lapine may never have written anything finer than this play’s final monologue , delivered in a heart-rending low key by Culkin, about the mysterious impulses that can unite or alienate us, driving a child to do both “something so ugly and something so beautiful in a few hours’ time.” The play’s final image is one of somber hope: a troubled young boy finally turning to face his parents, looking for something more than comfort — the moment when a life can turn permanently toward light or toward darkness.

[vigilante7657]

Honeymoon Pleasure

Guess what, a Shay Cormac x Reader fic! A request from a wattpad user.

There is Lemon, for once....

New York looks sacred, out on the patio in the bedroom upstairs. The New York air blows your (your hair color) hair, it dances in the wind and sunset. The rays on the light gleam on to your beautiful (Color of your wedding dress) wedding dress, it shakes into the wind. You look at your hand, your symbol of commitment rests on your ring finger. It shines and twinkles, just like the twinkle of your husband, as he kissed at the ceremony. Your husband said he had a surprise for you, as much as he didn’t want to keep you waiting, he insisted he get it for you. Your husband was none other than the broad shouldered and muscled, Shay Patrick Cormac. His tux was nicely tailored, marrying in front of a beautiful lake with rose petals and water lilies. You two had been the worst of times, and even the best, and the two of you have never grown apart. So, when Shay presented the ring that now sits on your finger, you knew you couldn’t tell him no. You felt a destiny with the Colonial Templar. When you two met at the dinner party, when he first saved your life from the thugs in the alley, tp when you needed a place to stay away from your abusive former husband.

Your mind replays back to the wedding. Your mind keeps replaying your new identity: Mrs. Cormac. The wedding was in white color, the traditional standard. All of Shay’s “contacts” where there. Haytham Kenway was Shay’s best man, he led him down the aisle. You were nervous, but your sister kept you calm, you didn’t want to embarrass the man in front of his boss. You watched as Shay’s friend, Charles Lee struggled to get the other Templars to behave themselves, they wanted to already get drunk. Or, at least Thomas Hickey wanted to get drunk, Shay hated him. You and Shay eventually laughed it off. Who invited that drunkard anyway? You laughed as he William Johnson eventually kicked Hickey out. John Pitcairn arranging the vows with the clergyman. The two of you eventually met, face to face. Shay smiled, trying to make sure you were calm. Today was a big day for you. “Do you, Shay Patrick Cormac, take (Your full name.) as you loving wife? To be there for her, in sickness and in health?” You looked at Shay, you were a little nervous. He smiled, and held your hand, “I do.” You take Shay’s hand as well. “And do you, (your name), do you take Shay Patrick Cormac, as your beloved husband. And to be with him, through sickness and in health?” You smile, Shay’s brown eyes gleam. “I do.” “You may now kiss.” Hickey whistled. Johnson literally throws the man out, shoves him down the creek. The two of you share a laugh, and you kiss. The kiss is out of affection, not of of desperation and need. It is gentle, and soft. Unlike your last husband.

You hear the door open and close behind you, you pick your head out of the clouds. “Shay?” “Hello beloved.” He’s excited, like a child. It’s why you feel in love with him. The look of a man, but the heart of a loving child. He’s hiding something behind his back. “Close your eyes, beautiful.” You tilt your head confused, but you close your eyes, trying to sneak a peek though. “No peeking, sweet (your first name).” He chuckles. Then he places something in your hands, it’s light, and it has a handle. He then kisses you on the lips, his tongue swirling with yours. He pulls out, and you open your eyes. It’s a fine handbag, the one you sold to afford money for a stay. You remember it well, kicked out by your divorced ex, staying on the streets, selling your belongings to stay alive and have food. It’s the same purse. “Do you like it? You told me you sold your grandmother’s purse for the money, I know it’s a family tradition. Well, I found a man with the purse, and I bought it from him. “In all honesty, I haven’t actually been on missions for the Order lately, I’ve been trying to look for the purse for you, because I know it means a lot to you. You're in disbelieve, you’ve been constantly on Shay’s mind that he temporarily stopped doing his duties as a Templar? “Shay,” you gasp, “It’s so beautiful, but this must have cost a fortune. How do I accept this?” “Just be at my side, dear, like you’ve always had.” The two of you start kissing, day has turned to night now. The stars twinkle and dance. Shay deepens the kiss, it is soft and smooth. For an aggressive and masculine templar, Shay sure was delicate and gentle with you. You kissed back, you needed the man. Especially on your honeymoon.

Shay interrupts this kiss, there’s a bright light and a loud boom. “Pitcairn pulled through! Go look outside, I have another surprise for you!” The two of you rush outside on the patio, lights burst in the sky. They’re fireworks from China. “Fireworks?!?” You always loved seeing the lights at fancy dinner parties, you remember first meeting Shay at the ball, where you ex husband left you. “Hello Ms. but it looks like you might be lost here without a guide.” Those where Shay’s first words to you. The sky erupts with bursts of blue, green, red, and lavender. “I love you so much, (your name).” His eyes sparkle as bright as the fireworks themselves.

You don’t know what happened then, but you quickly found yourself on the bed, seemingly grappling with Shay. Moaning and kissing filling the room with the sound of elaborate passion and lust. The Butler would be having a field day when he came to clean the room. As Shay positions himself above you, his smooth and yet firm hands crest your cheek. The tender hand brushed into your hair, it is delicate, yet with a hint of dominance. You need Shay, more than you ever thought you would. “Please, Shay.” You moan, as Shay starts sucking on your neck. “OH,” you moan, Shay starts rubbing and feeling your legs. He places a kiss on your right leg. The bed starts creaking, and bouncing as the frame want to fly away. “I want a family with you, (your name), let me be like home to you.” Shay begs. “Please, Shay.” You moan. “Shay’s already undressed, your clothes ripped and thrown on the floor. Shay enters inside you, your walls closing in on you. “So tight,” Shay moans. He starts thrusting, and rocking back and forth. You’ve never felt so much pleasure, he goes in deep and all the way. You grasp his hips, pulling him in closer.  Your hair is all directions. He thrusts slow, and deep. Your breath is quick and uncontrollable. Shay kisses your neck, your sweet spot. Shay then clutches your shoulders, and deepens his kiss. Shay doesn’t want to have sex, he wants to make love to you. Shay feels your torso, and kissed your bosom. You moan as Shay slowly slides his tongue in your mouth. Shay speeds up, your moans coming out as moans of pleasure. “I’m close,” you shriek, as Shay hits your g-spot. “Please, Shay, right there!” Shay smiles, and sucks on your breasts, he thrusts in the same spot, over and over and over. Slow, and deep. You don’t know how much more you can take. “Shay!” You scream as you have your orgasm. Shay fills you with his seed soon after.

By the morning, when Shay brings you breakfast in bed. You slightly struggle to get to your feet. Shay blushes, knowing to be mostly responsible.

@shay-makes-my-luck@waterbird-loves-pasteis@imakemyownblog@freedomaboveallelse@bunnyyumyum@afterglowingassassin@liamobrienswife @thefangirl-that-waited @rooks-and-blighters@writingsofawaywardnerd@callingalltrash@ladysokolov@katey76762